not the domestic deep

there is a hellish life
deep inside the worm's red tube-

a hot rift on the ocean's dim floor.

do not look here for neatly tiled footholds
or rising bubbles of fresh blue air.

here blindly pressured fossils of mouths thrash
in an Eden that is neither forest nor evergreen.

a trenchant belch will sulfur the little claws.

let them come unto you.